


Exploring/Saving Thedas

by landofquestsandtales



Category: Dragon Age (Tabletop RPG), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Demons, Fix-It, Gen, Magic, Modern Girl in Thedas, Non-binary character, Shapeshifting, The Fade, mary sue elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-04 22:01:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12780468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/landofquestsandtales/pseuds/landofquestsandtales
Summary: My take on the Modern Girl in Thedas trope! the modern individual is not a girl but close enough, right?This is going to be a self-insert, me *somehow* (handwaves) being put into the body of my Dragon Age TTRPG character at the beginning of DA Inquisition, and seeing where my imagination takes me from there.Including:my OCs!Adventure!A first time writer doing their best!





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so...  
> long time fanfic reader, first time fanfic writer, expect poor writing decisions but hopefully enough imagination and passable writing skill to make it readable (maybe even enjoyable? who knows)  
> if you feel you can do it without making me cry, please let me know what you think! (srsly tho concrit would be beaut)  
> Might add some romaces in as I go, already have some ideas :3 *Eyebrow waggles*

River flopped into the front-facing train seat, propping their feet up on the one opposite. The sky outside the window was dark as the dreary station platform, lit sporadically by the orange platform lights. Working at an after school club was great for lie-ins, but the commute home was dark, wet and cold. They resettled their headphones over their ears, glad for the noise-cancelling ear pads that muffled the train’s clatter as it pulled out of the station. River let their gaze blur and their mind wander as the English countryside sped invisibly past.

Suddenly; the train gave a lurch, tossing River and the other passengers to the floor, before the whole carriage rolled sideways and the world became a blur of pain and noise.

When River came to, The first thing they noticed was the discomfort, it pressed into the haze of their brain like a pile of jagged rocks being lain on. A groan burst from their lips as they shifted their weight and squinted through eyes unwilling to open. Above them was a cloudy sky, brighter than what they had viewed from the train, lit from within and without a sickly green. Either that was some freaky new pollution bullshit, crazy unbelievable government-experiment-style science craziness, or they were going mad. River decided.

They must have rattled their brain when the train… The train! They bolted upright suddenly, hissing when a number of aches and bruises made their presence known in response to the sudden movement. They stared around, ignoring the stinging as their eyes adjusted to the brightness and their mind reeled from the situation around them.

How in the heck did they get from a slightly dingy First Great Western carriage to the side of a mountain?! A decidedly rubble-strewn, eerily lit, _Dragon age resembling_ mountainside? Panic gripped its icy claws around River’s heart as they scrambled to their feet, clutching at their side and wincing. They appeared to be alone and the area remote, what should they do? What could they do? Were they dreaming?

 

River forced theirself to stand still and focus. They focused on their breathing until it slowed to a slightly more normal rate. They re-opened their eyes. Still standing on a mountain. Still alone. Shaking slightly.

As the adrenaline receded River became aware of the harsh wind chilling their face and hands. Stuffing their hands In their armpits they became aware of something else that had been subconsciously troubling them. They were wearing someone else’s clothes. Gone were the fluffy boots and baggy sweatpants, the fluffy-hooded coat and headphones. River gave theirself a quick once over, and then reached for their ears. The half-bare feet and prevalence of green in their new wardrobe hinting at the truth discovered by their frantic hands. Pointed Ears! Elven ears?! what?!

At this point they would very much like to wake up. Their ribs twinged unpleasantly and they returned their hands to the warmth of their armpits. They must be sleeping really strangely to be feeling this uncomfortable in their dream. There was only one thing for it. River recalled an occasion they had accidentally woken theirself up by holding their breath, (The dream had involved swimming and ice.) and decided to try to recreate the event.

Standing, shivering, in the cold and holding their breath, this dream was a lot less exciting that their usual. Also colder. The urge to gasp for breath grew and River determinedly held on. Any minute now…. Their vision began to swim, they felt light headed, and still the dream persisted. Finally they had to concede defeat and they doubled over, gasping in lungfuls of the frigid air.

Not a dream then. Or at least, not a normal one… might they be in some kind of coma? Or maybe, and they snorted slightly at the thought, they had CS Lewised their way into a fictional realm via train crash. After all, if the Pevensies can do it! Either way, not treating this... _thisness_ seriously would likely prove uncomfortable in the least, and deadly at worst. A calmer, more thorough search of the area revealed a sheltered area behind a rock, protecting a battered pack and what seemed to be the remains of a makeshift camp.

River hesitated, these things had to belong to the body? _Person?_ They were currently inhabiting. A wave of guilt and revulsion passed through them at the thought, regardless of the in-game view of what must be some sort of possession, taking over someone’s body did not sit well with them. They stood for a moment, wrestling their emotional response and as they looked upon the camp once again they experienced a flash of a memory not their own.

Arriving in the mountains to seek news of the conclave ( _the divines conclave!_ ) and finding this spot, setting out their meager belongings in a small camp where they would not be discovered. Feeling the ground shake and moving around the boulder to get a view of the Temple. Green light. Pain. Darkness.

So… their Elven host had been staying at the edge of the valley when the explosive opening of the breach knocked them unconscious? They were lucky they had not been nearer the temple or they would probably be dead. River flexed their fingers as they considered, they can’t have been out for too long, in this weather they would have been suffering frostbite or something.

At that reminder of their situation, their need for warmth overtook their distaste for rummaging in someone else’s things and they opened the backpack. Rolled up in the top they found a blanket which they gratefully wrapped around theirself. As well as the blanket the backpack held some coils of rope, a folding knife, a wooden box that rattled when shaken and opened to reveal a selection of sewing needles, fishing hooks, reels of twine and thread and a small, light piece of wood. There was also some clothes, bandages, and dried meat, the sight of which had River’s stomach rumbling.

As River chewed (and chewed and _chewed_ ) their way through a strip of the dried meat they considered what to do next. Just considering coming up with any kind of long term plan make their head ache so they decided to focus on short term survival first. Girl guide though they might have been, River had no idea how to survive alone on a mountain. They glanced up. _Especially_ when the sky above said mountain was spewing out rocks and monsters.


	2. Well, Shit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what? where? who? how? and what next?  
> questions are asked and answers are revealed! (some of them)

Panic threatened to overwhelm River again as they watched green streaks arc through the sky above them and impact, shaking the ground further down the valley. Within hours, maybe minutes, this whole area would be swarming with demons, the game had been clear about that. Everything about this situation screamed that River was currently standing in the opening events of the game Dragon age: Inquisition and the sensible (and least deadly) thing to do right now was to go with it.

From what River could remember of the game, Chantry forces would be hurrying to the temple, shocked and scared over the destruction and death of the Divine, and there they would find the Herald. Joining them seemed their best bet, but what exactly would they say?

‘ _Hi I think I was in an accident and I woke up in someone else’s body, I’m actually from another dimension or something please don’t freak out’_? They’d be lucky if nobody screamed abomination and tried to kill them after the first sentence. They could approach as the elf they were… _possessing?_ The people at Haven took in Solas and he was a random Elven Apostate for goodness sake! Surely a regular elf would fit in just-

Another flashback of foreign memories flicked through River’s mind: holding aloft a handful of flame to illuminate ancient carvings; a strange twisting sensation throughout their body as they cast a spell and _changed_ , dropping to all fours and smelling the world as a wolf, scents otherwise overlooked vibrant as they breathed; tossing a sparking handful of fire at some uncomfortably large spiders as they approached, mandibles clicking menacingly.

Well. Shit fucking goddamn. Not just a regular elf then. Magic = danger. And not just because of the Demons. If any Templars among the Chantry folk suspected that River was a mage, and an _Elven apostate_ to boot, they would be extra wary of them, and more likely to notice any slip-ups. The Mage Rebellion and now the breach, with its Demon Spewing-ness would put people on edge enough that suspicions of possession would be sky-high, and River had no experience _living in this world_ let alone protecting their mind from demons!

Except, they had played the games, hadn’t they? Their Surana had passed their Harrowing, and from what the games had showed, the key to Spirits, Demons, all that fade stuff was Willpower. Having the mental strength to persevere and make things happen the way you wanted was the way to get things done. So, River pondered, the key to wielding their magic, and deflecting demons was … what?

 

River gathered up the belongings at the small camp. Besides the backpack they found a couple of long knives in some sort of leather strap construction that they eventually figured out fitted around their shoulders, holding the knives across their back. A waterskin hung on their hip and the backpack sat on top of the back scabbard, but no staff was visible anywhere in the camp. It did make sense, River supposed, that someone hiding their magic from Templars would not want to carry around a large stick commonly associated with magic wielders.

River focused their attention inwards, hoping for a flash of insight from their elven host to go with the memories they had shared. In response to the mental prodding River felt a strange buzzing energy rising within theirself, falling into place around their mind like a wall. Focusing on the sensation curiously River felt by some instinct that this was the method employed by this mage to protect their mind. _Hiraeth_ , their mind supplied, The elf’s name was Hiraeth.

That name was familiar! Hiraeth was the name River gave their character for the Dragon age Tabletop RPG!  They remembered creating the backstory for this character, the game they played was set after the events of Inquisition and River had wanted to play a shapeshifter. They planned out a Dalish mage who had to leave their clan to make room for a new clan second. Dalish law set a limit of three mages per clan, on being the Keeper and the others the clan First and Second. Hiraeth had been the Second of their clan, very close in age to the First. When a relative had a mage baby Hiraeth had decided to give up their place in the clan in favour of the child. River’s planned backstory on how Hiraeth learned shapeshifting was that they spent a lot of time after leaving their clan studying ancient elven ruins and learned the skill from a phylactery similar to the one found by the Warden in Dragon Age Origins. If a preserved spirit can teach the skills of the arcane warrior, why not shapeshifting?

The rest of Hiraeth’s backstory – if they were the same person as the OC River made – was studying various animal forms and making a living hunting and trading with various Dalish clans and human villages. And getting the Vallaslin of other Dalish gods on the rest of their body from various Dalish clans they encountered and befriended. River quickly took off one of their gloves – yep. A modified version of the Vallaslin of June adorned the back of their right hand. So, their left should have Mythal? They returned their right hand to the shelter of its glove and had a look. Their left had did indeed bear the branches of The Protector. If everything else followed the plan then, Hiraeth’s face would bear the Vallaslin of Ghilan’nain. The first Vallaslin Hiraeth had received, given by their clan. They had always loved to spend time with the Halla, and had always loved the tale of Ghilan’nain. Their collarbones would have a design for Elgar’nan, and their back would have a stylized bow of Andruil, So the Goddess of the hunt could always watch their back. The flame of Sylaise would cover their heart, and The Vallaslin for Falon’din and Dirthamen would be on the tops of their feet, to keep them from straying onto a false or dangerous path.

When Hiraeth had learned of the Divine’s Conclave they had come to see what the outcome would be, and then joined the inquisition as a scout and spy, making use of their shapeshifting abilities.

 

The knowledge of this personal history came as a relief, having something to say other than ‘I come from another world where everything you know is actually part of a story’ when asked about who they were should reduce the risk of accidentally letting something slip that would get them into trouble.

It didn’t answer what had happened to Hiraeth’s mind though… as a creation of River’s maybe their personality had ceased to exist? That seemed uncomfortably close to murder. Maybe Hiraeth was still here but deep down?

Whatever their fate, River couldn’t stay up on a freezing mountainside forever agonizing over it. But where to go now? Hiraeth had originally joined the Inquisition. But could River do that? What if they were clocked as being unusual? What if they couldn’t even help? Standing around up here they would help no-one at all. And wouldn’t their knowledge of the story be useful?

Admittedly they had only ever played up to the Out of the Abyss mission before creating a new character and starting again repeatedly. Character creation was a terrible addiction and River knew they had a problem. They therefore knew very little about the rest of the game, but surely some foreknowledge was better than none?

Between certain death by freezing and/or Demons, and potential death by people, River made a decision and set off downhill. In search of people who were known for their charity towards those in need. (And for killing untrained mages.) (But they were trying not to focus on that part.)


	3. People! Oh Creators, People!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a chapter that isn't just exposition?! other people?!

River picked their way carefully down the mountain, The ground shaking occasionally as large chunks of flaming green _something_ impacted the ground in the distance. The game never really spent much time on the period before the breach was sealed, but River was certainly able to see why some thought it was the end of the world. The harsh green light was ever present. it cast everything in a sickly hue, and caused the shadows to flicker on the ground. The bursting, hissing, crackling sound of the breach growing, although infrequent (for now) was enough to set a person’s teeth on edge.

As they carefully navigated around rough boulders and down deep snowy slopes River kept alert for signs of company. They desperately hoped that they would come across someone humanoid first, but it would be foolish to ignore the likelihood of running into some kind of Demon. Especially right here and now.

When River had nearly reached the bottom of the valley they stopped. In the distance muffled shouting could be heard. People at last! River turned towards the sound and made their way carefully over. As they approached the sounds of combat became more distinct: the crash of metal on metal, A whole lot of shouting, as well as strange noises that they assumed must come from the demons? River peered around a final boulder and got a glimpse of the chaos. A group of what River guessed were Chantry sisters, defended by a mismatched group of what looked to be mercenaries. As river watched they dispatched the last of the demons and the group fell out of their defensive stance.

River stepped out from behind the Boulder and approached carefully, arms wide and hands open, displaying their unarmed state and harmless intentions. A Greatsword Wielding human was the first to notice their approach, swinging the weapon threateningly.

"Identify yourself!" She cried, drawing the attention of her comrades.

"My name is Hiraeth." River called hesitantly, wary of the whispered conversations and suspicious glances from among the group.

"And where did you come from?" Demanded the intimidating woman.

"I was camped up the slope, I wanted to learn what was happening at the conclave but there was an explosion and…" Ri- _Hiraeth_ gestured towards the Breach, "It is not a good time to be alone right now. Please, may I travel with you to safety?" They looked around the group imploringly.

There was a brief whispered conversation and then one of the women in chantry garb spoke up: "It would not do for us to leave anyone alone in the cold, especially with all that has just happened. Come with us!" She beckoned Hiraeth forward.

"Can you fight?" Asked the warrior woman, who seemed to be the leader of the group.

"Not very well." Hiraeth replied honestly.

"Stay with the sisters then, and do what you can to anything that gets too close." With that instruction and a last suspicious glare, the warrior gestured for the group to begin walking. The group walked along a rubble littered path, some more obviously shaken than others. "If I may ask," said Hiraeth to the sister that had called out to her, "how did all of you evade the explosion?"

The sister glanced at them as they fell into step. "The conclave is-" a pained expression crossed her face "-was an undertaking of many people, and not all of them stayed in the temple. My Sisters and I were on our way to relieve some of our fellows of their duties there. Some of the valiant souls who now protect us were to attend the Conclave, and were making the last part of their journey in a group with us, but most were hired by the chantry to help keep the peace and to ensure that all attendees were safe." Her expression turned somber. "We would likely be dead if not for Mistress Trevelyan there." She gestured towards the greatsword bearing woman who had first noticed Hiraeth’s approach.

"I am glad to have found people." Hiraeth replied, "I would not like to think of my chances surviving this alone."

The party made their way to the road that ran the length of the valley, walking steadily away from the breach. At present it was not too badly damaged and the group didn’t need to detour like the Herald and Cassandra did in the game. River supposed the next few days before the Herald woke up must be pretty destructive. A Herald who would likely not be human, River mused as she looked towards the woman from before. As the lady Trevelyan had not been at the temple when the breach occurred someone else must have interrupted the ritual. A shiver ran down River’s spine. If nobody had interrupted the ritual they were all screwed. When they got to haven they would be able to find out more.

 

The game had exaggerated only slightly how small Haven was. The walls were tall, stone; and smoke could be seen coming from many chimneys. The scene would be positively picturesque if not for the agitated, hurried bustle of people about the place. Already there were signs of shelters being set up for refugees and medical supplies being prepared. The Demons falling from the sky would soon produce many wounded needing aid.

As the walls loomed ever closer River frowned to theirself in thought. How could they help out here and make theirself useful? While the knowledge of events likely to happen in the future would be good, they needed a way to introduce theirself without seeming insane.

Without warning River’s vision turned searing green and they were blinded by bright light that seemed to be shining directly into their eyes. They blinked frantically and covered their eyes with their hands to no effect. Then, the green light shifted into an impossible view. With their eyes closed and covered River saw silhouettes form and the sounds of Haven around them seemed to fade away as a scene came into focus before them. They saw an elf, possibly theirself, hands in chains, being interrogated by a hooded figure. The scene flickered and they saw the same elf, gloves off and sleeves rolled up tending to people's injuries, casting their hands over their wounds and healing them magically. Then their vision flared green again before turning dark.

Hiraeth tentatively removed their hands from their face and squinted carefully. Their eyes were streaming and a crowd had gathered around, some pointing, whispering, a general air of suspicion and fear in the air. Everyone present seemed to flinch away from eye contact with them, causing River mild alarm. Had they had some kind of seizure? This was _not_ going according to their blending in plan.

The ring of metal drew everyone’s attention as an armoured figure approached, drawing a sword from the scabbard at their side. "Halt!" She called out. "Turn around slowly." Hiraeth stiffened and obeyed. As they turned they came face-to-sword with none other than Cassandra. Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry, Right Hand of the Divine, Founder of the Inquisition. Very scary when frowning at you. Also, sword.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes and advanced threateningly. "Do you have an explanation for why your eyes glow like the breach in the sky?" She asked.

"They what?" Squeaked Hiraeth, hands rising to their face. "I don’t… When the breach occurred I was higher in the valley and the blast knocked me out. I remember an extremely bright flash of light, and just now…" They trailed off, uncertain how much they should share.

A rattle of metal signaled the arrival of a soldier bearing a set of manacles. The chains River had seen in their vision? At Cassandra’s nod the soldier advanced on Hiraeth with the manacles. River decided easily that the best way through this situation would be to go along with things and hope that they could explain. They held out their hands as the soldier cautiously approached.

"Come with us and answer our questions. If you are safe I shall see that you are not harmed." said Cassandra as the heavy metal closed around Hiraeth’s wrists. The soldier gave them a brisk pat down and removed their knives from their place at Hiraeth’s back before leading them towards the centre of the Village, Cassandra and her sword still at their back.

Hiraeth was taken through a village that seemed both familiar and not all at once. There were definitely elements of the Haven from the game in their surroundings, but this place was bigger, a little more ramshackle and muddy, and smelly. The Chantry, however, was a building easily recognizable. It stood easily twice the height of the surrounding buildings with large, heavy wooden doors and thick walls.

Hiraeth was brought inside, the sound of moving footsteps echoing in the large hall. The inside of the Chantry was similar to being in a church back home, except it was lit only by candles and a little light through small windows. Hiraeth wasn’t afforded much time to look around though. They were led through a side door and down stone steps to what was quite clearly the village cells.

River was surprised to not be put behind bars. The soldier directed them to a chair in a sparsely decorated office-looking space and bowed out, closing the door behind them and leaving Hiraeth and Cassandra alone.

"You say you were in the valley during the explosion." Cassandra stated. "Why?"

Hiraeth straightened in their chair and tried to maintain eye contact as they replied. "I was there to observe the outcome of the conclave. I am an apostate and my potential future also would have been decided there."

Cassandra’s expression hardened at their statement of apostasy but made no aggressive move. A knock sounded on the door. Cassandra turned slightly to keep both Hiraeth and the door in her sight and responded. "Enter."

The door opened smoothly to reveal the hooded figure from Hiraeth’s vision. As the candlelight illuminated their face Hiraeth’s suspicions were confirmed. Leliana, spymaster and left hand of the Divine entered and stood beside Cassandra. After a brief conversation, too low for Hiraeth to hear, Cassandra turned back to Hiraeth.

"Leliana will ensure you do not pose a threat to anyone." She explained. "your honesty so far is commendable, but you understand we cannot risk having even an unknowing accomplice of the perpetrator of this crime run loose." With a firm nod of her head Cassandra turned and exited, closing the door again behind her.


	4. Safe Haven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana is scary. and awesome.

As Leliana turned around Hiraeth stared. Leliana was beautiful, but in the way that a blade is beautiful. Elegant and polished, but sharp enough to cut. Hiraeth shivered as a chill ran down their back and sat straighter in their chair. This was it. Time to bullshit for their life. And maybe the fate of many more, if they were successful. Leliana approached. Her face calm, eyes piercing. "Do you know what has happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes?" her voice was lovely, even laced with suspicion as the question was. The Orlesian accent gave a musical cadence that made her words pleasant to listen to.

Was this a trick question? No, Hiraeth decided. Leliana was trying to find out what they knew, trying to figure out if they had a connection to the cause of the explosion. They would need to answer carefully.

"I saw it explode." They replied. "I was camped further down the valley and was looking towards the temple when it exploded with bright green light. The blast knocked me unconscious. When I awoke the temple was rubble and the sky was full of strange magic and falling… stuff." They might have managed to seem composed for most of that answer until they faltered at the end. They had to concentrate on talking like the people of Thedas, no modern slang or turns of phrase.

Leliana seemed to accept this explanation, possibly used to people verbally stumbling, intimidated by her presence. "And the reason for your presence in the valley? Did you have contact with anyone at the conclave?" she asked, looking intently into Hiraeth’s eyes.

Another tricky question. Wouldn’t Cassandra have mentioned their answer from just now? Maybe Leliana was testing to see if they could keep their story straight?

"I was interested in the conclave because I am an apostate." They paused to gauge the reaction to this statement. Leliana blinked cooly, awaiting further explanation. "If the conclave had ended the war and mages been allowed to be free, I would no longer have need to hide. I knew no-one at the conclave, though. I have spent my entire life living away from people, studying ancient ruins and trading with remote villages." They hesitated again, and before Leliana could reply they quickly added "I am sorry for anyone you may have lost there." Remembering how broken up Leliana had seemed at the beginning of the game, Hiraeth couldn’t help but attempt to soothe that a bit.

Leliana’s gaze didn’t waver, but she seemed placated by the response, as though they had passed some sort of test. Leliana hummed as her eyes scanned their face, taking in the tattoos and raising an eyebrow. "You do not live with your clan?"

Hiraeth allowed their gaze to drop for a moment before refocusing on the Bard. "My clan had too many mages. I chose to leave so that a magically gifted child could stay and be protected by the clan."

"A noble act." Leliana murmured. "But does your isolation protect you from Demons?" Her expression had seemed to hold a distant sort of respect, but with her latest question her attitude shifted, suspicion returning to the fore.

"I was trained in the arts of magic by my keeper all of my life with them." Hiraeth’s memories provided the answer. "Protecting myself from the influences and temptations of fade creatures was the first lesson I was taught." Leliana seemed to expect more than this however. Slightly bewildered Hiraeth hesitated.

"I have always guarded myself from the creatures of the fade, why do you look at me like that?"

"So you do not know?" Leliana seemed disbelieving but offered a small pocket mirror for Hiraeth to use.

"When you approached Haven you seized and clutched your face." Hiraeth remembered that.

"Your eyes were glowing the colour of the breach. Even now your Irises are a strange colour."

Hiraeth froze for a moment. Unwilling to look in the mirror as the news sank in. Convincing people they were not possessed would be very difficult if their eyes kept glowing with magic! It sounded like what happened to Anders in the second game when Justice took over. They steeled theirself and looked into the mirror.

The mirror was small, the sort that someone would use to touch up their makeup. As such it only showed part of a persons’ face, but Hiraeth quickly had a look all over, eager for a glimpse of the face they now wore.

Hiraeth had a round-ish face, a gentle chin and a button nose. The bridge of which was high, common among elves. Overall (nose bridge aside) Hiraeth’s appearance was similar to River’s, down to the same small mouth with its pronounced cupid’s bow. The Vallaslin of Ghilan’nain adorned their brow and chin, the familiar looping pattern a soft brown. Their hair was in a wide Mohawk, the sides shaved close to the scalp and a long centre section of blonde hair braided down to their waist. This was all more or less how River had imagined them. The eyes however, were definitely different. River had always visualized Hiraeth with the dewy, large eyes all elves of Thedas seemed to have, in a cool silver grey. The size and shape of the eyes were fine, but the colour was decidedly not grey. Their dominant colour was bright green, reminiscent of sunlight through leaves. Cutting through that were tones of gold, yellow, and even hints of red and brown around the pupil. It was striking and obviously unnatural. It certainly did look remarkably similar to the shifting colours of the Breach.

"I… have no explanation." Hiraeth looked back at Leliana, Heart in their mouth. "I have no idea how this could have happened, my eyes are grey!" Embarrassingly, Hiraeth could feel theirself tearing up as their fear and uncertainty rose. "That glowing you spoke of, I think it coincided with a strange… vision I experienced."

"A vision." Leliana repeated flatly. Her eyes cold. This explanation would be the hardest to convince Leliana of, and Hiraeth’s heart raced. If they could convince Leliana of their good intentions they would have a valuable ally for their self-declared mission. If they couldn’t…. Hiraeth knew without looking that they would be unable to see any weapons upon Leliana’s person, knew there had to be some, and that Leliana almost certainly wouldn’t need one to end their life if she felt the situation required it.

Hiraeth breathed deeply. They stilled their trembling hands and looked Leliana directly in the eye, hoping the spy would be able to see they were telling the truth.

"As I saw all the people here and how busy it was, I was trying to think of how I could make myself useful. Then my eyes burned and I could see only green. I thought it was my mind overcome by the chaos and recalling the explosion, But when the light faded I could see things with my eyes closed. And what I saw was not what I knew to be before me. I saw myself, sat as I am now in this room with a hooded figure I now realise must have been you. Then the scene changed and I saw myself tending to people’s injuries in a tent. I don’t know how this could have happened. What kind of magic has the power allow a person sight of the future?" They felt their lip tremble and blinked back tears. They couldn't lose it now!

Leliana seemed to be mulling over their words. "I cannot accept what you say with no evidence to back up your words." She eventually said.

"We shall keep you somewhere safe for now, and if we can prove that your condition is not the result of a demon we may let you go." She turned to go, but before she left Hiraeth called out

"I have always avoided contact with your Chantry’s Templars, so I do not know. Might they have some sort of test for possession?" A pause.

"A non-lethal one!" They hastened to add.

"If I do go free, and you would have me, I would like to help fix this however I can. I know some healing magic and am familiar to many Dalish clans." They finished. Leliana had paused and turned in the door to listen. She nodded once, and gestured to someone out of sight.

The guard from before must have been watching the door, as they stepped in at Leliana’s gesture. They seemed to have heard what was said as no words were exchanged before Leliana disappeared back down the corridoor and the guard began leading them down the corridor Hiraeth knew led to the cells. Hopefully they would not stay there long, and live to leave soon. they surreptitiously wiped their face and breathed deeply. Hopefully what they said had been enough.

Hiraeth was set in a cell to one side of the large room that composed the Chantry’s lockup. The bars were thick and heavy and the stone walls and floor offered no warmth. There was hay (or was it straw?) Piled up in the corner with a raggedy looking blanket that looked to be the bed. A thought struck Hiraeth and they looked around again. In the corner they noticed a grate in the floor and calmed somewhat. Using the toilet here was always going to be interesting they consoled theirself. The guard closed them in and left to stand by the door to the room, apparently on guard here now that there was a prisoner. With nothing else to do Hiraeth made theirself vaguely comfortable on the ‘bed’ and settled down to wait.


	5. The Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> left with nothing to do and a (relatively) comfy bed, River experiences the fade....

Hiraeth shivered. The air around them felt cool and damp and it clung unpleasantly. As their mind engaged with their senses they started slightly. Unless something extremely bad had suddenly happened, they appeared to be dreaming. The cell they remembered falling asleep in was recreated around them, but the bricks of the back wall floated in a cloud instead of sitting uniformly like sensible, real bricks did. Hiraeth reached out to one and poked it. It felt like a brick. The force of their finger caused the brick to drift slowly away, seemingly ignorant or uncaring that gravity was something that usually applied to bricks. As Hiraeth thought that, however all of the bricks suddenly fell to the floor, one nearly hitting their foot. This was a good reminder that the Fade was influenced by the perceptions and intentions of those within it.

Everyone in Thedas dreamed in the fade, and now River got to experience it firsthand. They looked around uncertainly. Their ‘cell’ was surrounded by bland featureless ground, now liberally sprinkled with bricks. The distance was obscured by the thick, cloying fog that had awoken them. Asleepened them? What’s the verb for sleep-waking?

Hiraeth stifled a giggle, slightly hysterical. This was not how their day was supposed to have gone. They sat down suddenly and covered their face with their hands. Saving the world was all well and good in a videogame, but facing the same situation in real life struck a different chord. The frostback mountains in the game had been a picture on a map, the background to a series of cutscenes lasting a few minutes. The place River had woken up in was cold and big and dangerous. And only the start of River’s problems. Hiraeth may be passable at self defence, but only against wildlife and the occasional lone bandit. Their tactics usually boiled down to ‘distract it with magic, transform into a bird/fish/mouse and hide/run away until safe.’ Very sensible when living rough and hiding from mage hunters, But the future held a lot more direct fighting. Trained mages and mage killers were _right now_ trying to kill each other all over the world and if River wanted to be one of the ones to stop that (and others) they needed to be able to at least meet their strength.

River became aware of a tingling on their senses, a chill in the air. They glanced up from their intense navel-gazing and came face to face with a person, unnervingly close. They scrambled to their feet, their hands held before them. Hiraeth’s knowledge and training kicked in and a barrier shimmered to life over their form and flames flickered in their palms as they faced down the spirit. Demon? Cold and deep looking thing. It appeared humanoid, wrapped in fabric that covered its face and limbs, undisturbed by breath until it spoke:

"It has been a while since someone last came to see me." It said, its voice barely a whisper. "Have you come to keep me company?" Its head tilted as Hiraeth considered their response.

"No.’"They said, voice steady. "Why are you here?"

The demon stepped closer a little, encouraged by the apparent engagement in conversation. "I am here because here is my home. I began here, I have fed here, it belongs to me."

Hiraeth studied the figure, the pieces slotting into place in their mind. "You’re a despair demon aren’t you?" They accused. "Feeding off the despair those cultists caused in those they condemned to die."

"And _you."_  The demon said unnervingly, moving still closer.

"I could sense your approach, so full of worries and fears…" it drew back its hood revealing a horrifying visage, a head that was mostly mouth, with large, rodent like teeth and tiny, almost sightless eyes. It licked its lips, a sight Hiraeth could have happily forgone, and drew out the word -

"Deliciousss."

Hiraeth moved with barely a second’s thought. Thrusting both hands forward they sent forth a burst of flame, covering the Demon with bright, red heat.

It shrieked deafeningly, leaping into the air and soaring away a distance, flames and smoke trailing behind it.

"Augh! Too much trouble! Die!" It shrieked as it cast forth a beam of ice. Hiraeth dodged quickly, ducking behind one of the erect walls of the ‘cell’. Quick, what did they know about despair demons?! They were weak to fire, resistant to ice, moved about a lot on the battlefield and prefered to fight from a distance.

Could they even fight this thing? Weren’t they just thinking about how they didn’t know how to fight?

Hiraeth trembled as they crouched, then their eyes widened as they realized. _T_ _hese thoughts were not theirs._

Sure, they may be inexperienced in fighting great big armies, but that wasn’t what they were here for. They were here to help in any way they could and may not even see a battle if they were of more use elsewhere. Sitting in the lair of a despair demon was not the place to plan, and therefore only one of them could stay. It wasn’t going to be the demon.

As Hiraeth steeled theirself with this thought, the wall at their back suddenly trembled, and flew apart.

"This is my place, mortal!" The demon crowed.

"There is nowhere you can hide that I will not find you!"

Hiraeth spun around as their shelter disappeared but the demon was out of sight. They cautiously crept forward, hands cupped around reassuring flame.

A blast of icy energy burst off their shoulder, their barrier absorbing some of the blow but leaving them feeling chilled to the bone and startled. They spun around, hurling flame in the direction the ice had come from, meeting only air.

They had first sensed the Demon by the feel of the fade around them, not with their eyes, Hiraeth recalled, slowing their frantic glancing around. A tingle registered to their side and they threw theirself forward, catching only the edge of the next beam.

They landed on their front, winded and cold. They needed to finish this fight fast, they didn’t have the knowledge or stamina to win a drawn out fight like this. Gritting their teeth they pushed theirself up, rising to a crouch. They slowly straightened, alert in every sense for any hint of the Demon.

They acted on instinct, putting all of their energy into the fire they cast, both hands punching forwards and into the face of the demon as it appeared from the fog. It screamed as the flames ate away at it before collapsing into a pile of empty, singed cloth. The remains of the demon floated away and disintegrated as Hiraeth allowed theirself to fall to the ground, shaken by the experience.

"The fade is bullshit." They muttered, flat on their back.

As the influence of the Despair demon cleared from the area, the fog began to lose some of its distressingly damp closeness. Allowing Hiraeth to relax slightly, now aware of how on edge they had been since sleep-waking. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any more disturbances of their rest. Hiraeth was feeling run down by the strain of their day, and arrival in Thedas; hike down the mountain, interrogation, and now Demon-battle. Would some rest be really so much to ask? They complained to theirself, pouting a little. What wouldn’t they give for a nice soft bed to lay in, maybe an electric blanket and some background rain noise?

They started slightly, eyes flicking open as the sound of falling raindrops suddenly seemed to come from all around them. Before them was a bed, complete with warm, fluffy duvet and even an electric blanket! As the appearance of these things coincided with to River’s thinking of them, the cause was obvious. The anachronism of the blanket was apparently a non-issue. The power cord trailed uselessly though, bereft of power socket and therefore unusable. The bed and background noise were eagerly appreciated though, as Hiraeth scrambled in.

Hiraeth allowed theirself to be soothed by the familiar sensations they had summoned. Not only was the familiarity a comfort, the knowledge that they had a measure of control over the world around them, despite their newness, gave them a bit of confidence. It was as they had thought before: Willpower and mental strength allow a person to shape magic to their will. Their grasp of the practice was still a little shaky, but they had confidence that they could learn and develop their skill with time and effort.

Hiraeth called into being some pillows and propped theirself up in the bed. They needed to begin practicing controlling magic, and there was no time like the present. But where to begin? In Origins, a mage Hero began the story in the Circle Tower and gave a brief glimpse into what sort of training mages did. But creating a fire was a little below Hiraeth’s current skill set, as was summoning a barrier. Summoning things was right out of the equation. Not only where they knackered from fighting the despair demon, they were sitting _in the place the demons came from_. Thinking outside the box was therefore required.

What sort of things could they see theirself using their magic for? There was the healing that they had seen theirself doing in the vision, and also would very much like to be able to use their magic to move things. None of the games really showed mages using their magic in any telekinesis-like manner, but most magic shown was to do with combat. Maybe the stonefist spell was a kind of strong telekinesis? They decided to try healing magic first, given that they were still bruised from their encounter earlier.

Concentrating, Hiraeth focused their will into a healing spell. Holding the spell ready upon their fingers they cast their hand and spell over the various bruises and scrapes they had acquired diving around and being blasted with ice. The blow to the back of their shoulder proved hard to reach, but they eventually felt able to relax without wincing and called it a job done.

Telekinesis practice time then? Behind them, the partly exploded cell was still visible so Hiraeth climbed out of the bed and picked a brick to practice on. Standing determinedly, they pointed a hand at the rock and willed it to float into the air. The rock remained stubbornly earthbound.

"balls." Hiraeth swore. They had made the bricks fall without even trying, earlier! Maybe they were trying too hard? Hiraeth stood over the brick in a relaxed pose and waved an arm languidly towards the rock, casually inviting it to take to the air. Zero movement on behalf of the rock. Hiraeth pursed their lips in annoyance and resisted the urge to kick the rock.

As a throwaway joke attempt River swished and flicked their finger, incanting

"Wingardium Leviosa!" At that they felt their mana engage and the brick rose to float before their finger. Hiraeth dropped their hand and spell in surprise.

"What the shit." They muttered to theirself, glaring at the rock. How could a made-up spell invented in another dimension make an unreal rock fly?

Hiraeth tangled their hands in their hair as they mulled over the possible explanations.

Idea 1: The rock was an asshole and only reacted at the most confounding time. – The fade was weird, but assigning sentience to rocks was probably pushing it.

Idea 2: Somehow by reciting fakey bogus Latin they had unlocked an actual spell from this world? – also unlikely. Although River suspected that the Tevinter Imperium and ancient roman empire were intended to be similar, saying wingish weightlessness (Or something like it, if they remembered the translation correctly.) was probably beyond the creative imagination of Tevene spellweavers. Or whoever made spells. Hiraeth decided that spellweaver was a good word and they were sticking with it.

So, Idea 3: The spell worked because that’s how River knows it should happen. Obviously, through watching and reading lots of Harry Potter, River was familiar with the spell and its uses. And therefore, when they ‘used’ it on the rock they knew, and half expected, the response of levitation. But if that was true, why had the rock not responded until that point?

Hiraeth paced a little. Perhaps it was because when they had tried before, they were remembering how rocks don’t actually move when you think at them. Back in England, rocks sit on the floor and they jolly well stayed there unless physically moved by something. In order to get the rock to move, then, Hiraeth would have to not only will the rock to move, but _expect_ the rock to move. Like instructing children. You have to have an air of command and an expectation that the children will do what you say and that no other option is even possible.

Hiraeth stopped and squared up to the rock. They flexed their fingers and stretched out their arms. They stared down the rock with all the sternness they could manage and silently told the rock that it would rise to eye level and it would stay there and that laying around on the floor was unacceptable.

For a moment nothing happened. Then, Hiraeth felt their magic react to the willpower they were expressing and the rock rose. Hiraeth allowed theirself a smug grin as they observed their defeated foe. Take that magic!

Engaging their magic again, they willed the rock to float closer to them.

It did.

They willed the rock to float away from them.

It did.

They willed the rock to fly around them in a circle and do a loop the loop.

It took a bit more concentration to not drop the rock, or hit it against something (i.e theirself.) but the rock did execute a passable flyby and loop the loop.

Hiraeth dropped the rock and did a little victory dance. There was no-one to see, so if they wanted to celebrate their small victory then why not?

Now to develop their control of this new spell, they decided. Maybe the sort of thing Yoda had Luke doing in his force training in Star Wars? Seeing how many rocks they could hold up at once, and stacking them would be good practice. Perhaps not standing on one hand, though. Learn to walk before you run and all that.

Hiraeth sat down, surrounded by rocks, and applied theirself to making objects fly.


	6. The Herald

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald! Solas! More dreaming!

Hiraeth was drawn from their sleep by a ruckus in the corridor. They sat up from their bed of straw, more comfortably than they might have expected, except for the sharpish ends poking them with every movement.

As they looked curiously towards the door the sound of boots grew closer and the door was flung open. A few soldiers, dressed like the one watching Hiraeth shuffled awkwardly in, carrying between them a large something. As they neared the centre of the room it became apparent that they were carrying a Qunari. Hiraeth stared, hoping to catch a glimpse of their left hand to confirm the suspicion building in their gut.

The soldiers placed their burden on the floor and backed away, leaving some space around it as Cassandra entered, accompanied by Leliana and a familiar looking bald elf. The three of them clustered around the large body, the two women observing their companion guardedly. As he stepped into the light Hiraeth got her first look at Solas, the controversial Dread Wolf. He seemed… actually kind of ordinary. He was dressed modestly, as he was in the game, and his face was serious as he knelt to observe the Qunari. He had dirty feet, Hiraeth noted absently, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of so many people they felt so wary, and yet protective of.

Solas was looking the Qunari over, studying her face and limbs, mindful of her horns as they scraped slightly on the stone. She grunted slightly, still unconscious, but reacting to the sudden light that flared on her left palm. Everyone in the room but Solas and Hiraeth jumped and reached for their weapons. Hiraeth was looking closely and saw a brief incomprehensible expression flit across Solas’ face before he recovered his composure and reached for the Qunari’s left arm.

"Careful!" Cassandra admonished, stepping forward in alarm. "We don’t know what that is! It may be dangerous!"

"I do not believe that touching the arm will cause me harm, Seeker." Solas replied, his voice soft and sure. "The magic appears to be contained within the hand for now, but I must place wards about it or it will spread quickly across her body." He lay the arm back down and placed his hands around the mark, obviously careful not to actually touch it.

Cassandra shifted slightly, appearing uncomfortable with the Mage’s proximity to unknown magic. "Can you tell us anything about what it is?" she asked, her tone hard.

"I’m afraid I may not be able to tell you yet much more than what is obvious." Solas replied, slightly terse. "This magical mark is connected to the breach. That, and the proximity in which your soldiers recovered her suggest that this Qunari was close to, or even involved in what caused the breach. As for the properties of the Mark, I cannot say. I must monitor it closely before I can say anything with certainty."

"and what about with uncertainty?" Hiraeth found theirself interjecting before they could stop it. They quickly slapped their hands across their traitorous mouth but the words were already out there. Hiraeth shrank back slightly as heads turned towards them, paying them attention for the first time since entering.

"With uncertainty I could say that this mark might take over her entire body and kill her slowly." Solas said, staring unnervingly at Hiraeth’s face. "I could say that we could use it to track down the cause of the breach. I could say that we could use it to close the holes in the fade. I could say that it may be a trick, an illusion meant to distract us away from something more dangerous. Or I could say that acting on uncertain information is likely to get all of us killed." He turned primly back to his study of the Qunari’s hand, apparently dismissing Hiraeth’s interruption.

Hiraeth looked towards Leliana and Cassandra, a slightly abashed look upon their face. Cassandra had turned back to observe Solas, but Leliana was approaching Hiraeth’s cell. Hiraeth climbed to their feet, brushing straw from their clothes and looked at Leliana with anticipation.

"We have rescued a few Templars from the destruction around the Breach." She said softly. "They are currently recovering, but when the opportunity arises they will be asked if they can assist with your situation."

"Thank you." Hiraeth replied.

Leliana turned as if to go, then stopped and looked back. "I did not ask your name earlier." She said. "What is it?"

Hiraeth blinked. They hadn’t noticed the lapse in manners. But they had been rather preoccupied at the time. "Hiraeth" they said with a small smile.

"I am Leliana." She introduced herself. "I hope I will have news for you soon." With that Leliana turned back and approached Cassandra. They had a brief, murmured conversation before Leliana left, closing the door behind her.

The atmosphere in the lockup was tense and Hiraeth found theirself biting their lip and fidgeting in reaction. They sat back down in their straw pile, wrapped theirself in their blanket, and occupied theirself, tearing apart pieces of straw.

Solas was an unmoving statue, crouched at the side of the unconscious woman. Cassandra loomed at his shoulder, frowning as she observed the delicate magics being woven around the mark.

Hiraeth was pretty confident that none of this really needed their input. What help could they be in a cell, anyway? They lay back down in their straw and settled down for some more sleep.

The Fade was just as it had been when Hiraeth slept earlier. The ever shifting fog and cool atmosphere clinging slightly to Hiraeth’s body. Bored of the familiar scenery, Hiraeth decided to explore a little.

The Fade was similar to how it was depicted in the games. Rocks large and small (or were they far away?) Seemed to hang in the air all around. Hiraeth idly wondered where the Black City was, it was supposed to be visible from anywhere in the Fade. River had always thought it looked kind of like a spiky genie’s lamp, but they couldn’t see anything like that around.

As their wandering feet took them further from what had been the despair demon’s territory the fog seemed to retreat and their field of vision grew. Something strange (er than the rest of the Fade) caught their eye. The Breach, viewed from the other side. Where on the physical side of the veil the Breach had been a bright, spiked, bursting presence, from the Fade it seemed more like a black hole, sucking at everything around it.

It was then that Hiraeth noticed that the fade seemed very quiet. In the games it had always seemed quiet, but in more of a muffled kind of way, like there were conversations going on, the other side of a wall. But here and now the fade was quiet in a way that signaled desertion. As if everything in the area had been scared away.

Looking back at the Breach Hiraeth found they could hardly blame them. Even from this distance it seemed to pull as you looked at it. Inspiring the sensation of standing on a precipice, on the verge of teetering off and plummeting into the unknown.

Hiraeth turned away from the Breach and directed their attention at the raw Fade around them. When the Hero of Ferelden had wandered the Fade they had encountered artifacts that enhanced their being. Fonts of dexterity, willpower, and strength to name a few. Hiraeth wondered if it would be possible to sense their presence in the same manner they had sensed the Demon earlier.

Hiraeth closed their eyes and concentrated on their awareness of their surroundings. There was no icy prickle to indicate Despair around, for which they were grateful. Settling in to devote their attention to their feeling-radar they allowed their awareness to spread slightly further.

Hiraeth remained in this meditative state for a while, delicately probing the fade for anything of interest. after some time, maybe hours, something tickled the back of their mind. They felt as if they were being watched. Hiraeth was confused for a moment, having not felt anything approach. They then deduced that the attention must be from the waking world, directed at their sleeping self. Apparently it was time to _wake up._


	7. Tests

Hiraeth opened their eyes. Waking up seemed to come almost easily when it was done by choice. They sat and looked around. The Herald still lay in the centre of the room, surrounded by guards. Solas appeared to be gone from her side though, as was Cassandra. Confused, Hiraeth looked around for the person whose attention they had noticed while dreaming.

With a start Hiraeth finally noticed the eyes watching them from the shadows. As they watched, Solas stepped into the light cast by the torches and approached Hiraeth’s cell, a predatorily considering look in his eyes.

“So you are the other apostate, then.” He said softly. “Apparently you are also Marked by the explosion at the conclave. How curious.”

Hiraeth stood and turned to face him through the bars. “I have never heard of anything like the magic that destroyed the Temple.” They said, expression earnest. “I know not what that magic has done to me, but it has indeed marked my eyes, and I think afforded me insight into the future.”

Solas had apparently been informed of the basics of Hiraeth’s tale as he did not seem surprised to hear them proclaim visions of the future. “Tell me,” He said. “What have you seen in these visions of the future?”

“I have only had the one vision, and part of it has already come to pass.” Hiraeth explained. “I saw my interrogation by Leliana before it happened, and also a glimpse of myself healing people in a tent somewhere. Hopefully that means my lack of Abominability can be proved and that I can make myself useful to the people that survive the breach.”

A pause. “I don’t suppose you know of any way it can be proved that I am not possessed?” Hiraeth was seized by sudden hope.

Solas looked at them, considering, before replying. “I could attempt to find you in the Fade, any spirit or demon possessing you would be obvious from there.” He said. “But the only evidence I would be able to provide would be my word. And I doubt the Seeker would be sufficiently convinced.” He smiled wryly. “My own presence here is under scrutiny, and conditional upon my assistance with the magic of the breach. If it helps, however, I do not believe you are possessed.”

Hiraeth smiled weakly, gratified by the show of support, small though it was. “Was there anything else you wish of me?” They enquired. “You must have been sitting there for a while.”

Solas seemed thoughtful before he spoke. “I wondered what triggered your vision of the future." He said. "Is it something you can control? Direct? Any insight it could offer regarding the Qunari prisoner here would be most useful.”

Hiraeth considered his words for a moment, then turned to look at the female Adaar laying on the floor. Could they control this ability of theirs? Would the future for the Herald unfold as they thought?

Hiraeth felt a familiar sensation build up around their eyes and braced theirself for the pain that had come with it. This time however, the pain was greatly reduced. Hopefully the more this ability was used, the more familiar and less painful it would become.

As the green light faded and their vision cleared Hiraeth frowned to theirself, ready to commit every detail to memory. This ability was a valuable one, but only as much as they remembered what they saw.

Before them they saw the Qunari woman approaching a rift. They bore two blades across their back and their long white hair streamed in the wind as they raised their mark to the rift. A beam of energy arced between the Qunari’s palm and the Rift, channeling power into it and closing it with a final flash and burst of energy.

Cassandra entered Hiraeth’s field of vision and looked to the Herald approvingly. Hiraeth’s view of the scene was once again cut off by the green light and when their vision returned they met the expectant eyes of Solas.

“I saw her use the mark on her hand on a smaller looking version of the Breach.” They said, shaping their expression into one they hoped was of appropriate amazement. “The mark connected with it and closed it! Then I saw the seeker standing by her, they looked like they were working together.”

“That is a relief beyond words.” Said Solas, his eyes closing briefly. “If what you saw was truly the future then there may yet be a chance of fixing this. I shall share this with Seeker Pentaghast and see if I may assist in attaining your freedom.” With that he turned and left the room, his bare feet making almost no noise on the stones.

 

Hiraeth was getting kind of tired of people just walking off at the end of their conversations. They sat back down in their pile of straw and contemplated their surroundings. With the amount of sleep they had gotten recently they felt too well rested to sleep again. Prison, it turned out, was really boring.

Hiraeth lost track of the amount of time they sat there, fiddling with straw. There was no way to tell the time down here. The guards swapped shifts silently and food was delivered to their cell at intervals of indeterminate length. There were no windows to let in sunlight. It could be the middle of the night or noon as far as they knew.

Eventually the monotony was broken by the arrival of someone Hiraeth had been half hoping, half dreading seeing. A figure dressed in armour bearing the flaming sword of the Templar order.

“I am Lysette.” She said, approaching confidently. “I have been asked to test if you are possessed.” The attitude of the Templar was matter of fact, her voice steady. If Hiraeth had been less concerned for their life they might have been comforted by the air of competence Lysette bore.

“What does this test involve?” Hiraeth asked, nervously. “I have never encountered a Templar before, but tales I have heard of your abilities are… intimidating.”

Lysette stood before the bars of Hiraeth’s cage at parade rest. Relaxed, but ready to react at a moment’s notice. “I am going to use my Holy Smite ability to drain your mana. If a demon or spirit is present within you it will be forced to come forth.”

“And then you probably kill me.” Hiraeth said weakly. “If no Demon or Spirit comes forth will that be evidence enough to gain me my freedom?” They asked.

“Yes.” Came a third voice from the direction of the door, startling Hiraeth. They had been so focused on Lysette that they had not noticed Cassandra enter after. “With the information you have provided us, and the evidence of this test, should it be successful, we will be willing to let you go. You may also stay in Haven if you wish to help.”

“In that case,” Hiraeth said, “Let us do this. I am eager to be out of this cell.”

“For safety we shall leave the cell door closed.” Lysette said, removing a vial of glowing blue liquid from a pouch at her side. “If you do turn out to be possessed we would rather not have an abomination run amok through the cells.” She smiled weakly, indication that that had been an attempt at a joke.

Hiraeth grimaced back and nodded, clenching and unclenching their fingers. Even if they turned out to not be possessed (Which they strongly felt was the case.) The Smiting was unlikely to be a pleasant experience. They braced theirself and nodded. “Ready.”

Lysette opened and downed the contents of the vial she held. She gestured with her arms and directed a powerful wave of energy towards Hiraeth.

 

The world turned blue. A numb sensation seemed to coat every inch of their body even as every nerve sang with pain. Hiraeth’s body seized, instinctively trying to resist the unnatural sensation of their Mana being drawn from them. The onslaught continued for what seemed like minutes. Eventually the light faded a little and Hiraeth became aware of their surroundings again. Their entire body felt sluggish, tired as if they had run twenty miles, but in a way that involved something other than their muscles. Their throat felt raw and rough and they realized they must have been screaming. They had been unable to hear theirself, overcome  by the burning away of their magic.

They looked up from their crumpled position on the floor, making eye contact with a concerned looking Lysette. “Ow.” They rasped weakly, attempting a smile. “I had been expecting something unpleasant, but that was something else.” They took a deep breath and hauled theirself to their feet, using the bars of their cage as leverage. The Smite had drawn away their mana, but their muscles felt weak also, like a baby deer.

Cassandra came over to the cell door and unlocked it. “I am sorry for the discomfort you had to endure, but I am glad to know that you are safe.” She said. That seemed to be the closest thing Hiraeth would get to an apology from the stern woman, and they appreciated it. They knew that Cassandra would have been well within her rights as a seeker to call for their death due to the unknown nature of their optic affliction.

“I’m relieved also.” They cleared their throat, unsure how to proceed. “I told Leliana I wanted to help once I was cleared, but right now…”

“We will not ask you to do anything rught now.” Cassandra declared. “Come. I shall show you where your things are stored and where you may rest and recover. Apothecary Adan's workplace is on the way, When you are ready, report there and he can direct you to where you may be needed.”

“If you have no more need of me, My Lady Seeker…” Lysette trailed off.

“Thank you for your assistance in this matter.” Cassandra turned to the Templar. “Your efforts are appreciated.”

“Yes, thank you Lysette.” Hiraeth chimed in. “It was unpleasant, but without your help we could not be certain if I were truly safe.”

Lysette seemed surprised to be thanked for her actions but bore it gracefully, bowing to Cassandra and nodding to Hiraeth before striding to the door, sparing the quickest glance for the still unconscious form of the yet-to-be Herald in the centre of the room.

Cassandra was as good as her word, returning Hiraeth’s pack and blades, all exactly as they had been when they were taken. Upon exiting the Chantry Hiraeth was glad to see the sky was dim with twilight. “How long was I down there for?” They remembered to ask.

“It is the evening of the day after you arrived.” Replied Cassandra. “The breach grows yet and smaller rifts have been appearing also.” She glanced back at Hiraeth as she led the way from the Chantry. “I hope the vision you described to Solas will prove true. As yet we have not discovered any way of interacting with even the smallest rifts.”

Hiraeth had no response to that which did not sound trite even to their own ears so they remained silent.

“This is the workshop of apothecary Adan.” Cassandra said, indicating one of the larger buildings, a small distance from the chantry. “He is in charge of organizing all things to do with healing. If you can provide any assistance it would be appreciated. So many skilled craftspeople were lost at the conclave.”

Cassandra seemed unwilling to dwell in the wake of that statement and led Hiraeth to a slightly smaller, more shabby looking building.

“We anticipated you might be more comfortable staying among other elves.” She said. “This building is the dormitory of some of those working here, and another Dalish elf we have taken in in the aftermath of the explosion.”

“Thank you, Lady Cassandra.” Hiraeth said, hoping they had the form of address right. They looked up and met Cassandra’s eye before the woman turned away. “I know we can make things right.”

Cassandra recognized Hiraeth’s words with a nod before disappearing amongst the buildings, Leaving them stood alone outside what was apparently to be their home for a while. ‘At least ‘til a bloody dragon wrecks the joint.’ They thought to theirself, opening the door and stepping inside.


	8. Aneth Ara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a shorter chapter this time, and the introduction of another might-have-been herald!

The hut Hiraeth entered was dark, but warm. The smell of straw and candle smoke filled the air as Hiraeth stepped in, closing the door behind them.

As their eyes adjusted to the dark (surprisingly quickly – maybe it was an elf thing?) they began to make out some bunk bed like constructions against the walls, some of them three beds high. The room held the silence of suddenly halted conversation and Hiraeth noticed a group of elves gathered at a table by the building’s sole window, apparently startled by their entrance.

“Um, Hello.” Hiraeth greeted them, awkwardly. “I was told I could stay here? Is there a spare bed?”

The group seemed to consider them, taking in their travel worn clothes and Vallaslin before turning to a particular individual among them. The man rose from his seat among the group and smiled kindly at Hiraeth. “Andaran atish’an friend.” He beckoned them closer. “I am Vallas of clan Lavellan.”

“Hiraeth.” They replied. “I have no clan, but am friend to many.”

Vallas seemed surprised. “Why do you have no clan? Did something happen to them?”

“I left a long time ago. I gave up my place in the clan for a child that had begun to show signs of magic. I have travelled alone since then, trading with human villages and some other clans I encountered on my travels.”

“You travelled human lands alone?!” Vallas exclaimed. “Surely that was dangerous!”

“I managed okay.” Hiraeth reassured him. “I have studied the ancient art of shapeshifting and am quite able to handle any trouble I encounter.”

“That is a valuable talent indeed.” Vallas looked impressed. “What animals can you become?” Their conversation held the attention of the rest of the elves, their previous conversation obviously not as interesting as the newcomer.

Hiraeth shifted, slightly discomfited by all the attention. They thought for a moment, Hiraeth’s memories providing the answers. “I can become a Mouse, very useful for hiding. I can become an Owl, which is very good for travelling, especially at night.  I can become a wolf, or a Bear, which I use for hunting and fighting, if I have to. I enjoy being a fox. They are small and agile, quick and surprisingly fun. The first shape I learned was that of the Halla, however. It is surprising how much faster you can run on four legs, and how much greater your awareness becomes through the senses of a Halla.”

The other elves seemed slightly worried by this frank discussion of magical ability. Or maybe it was the idea of changing shape? Vallas didn’t seem to share their reservations, however.

“Can you show us?” he asked, his face betraying his excitement. “I have only ever heard stories of magic being used to alter a person’s form. It sounds fascinating!”

Hiraeth smiled, encouraged by their new friend’s enthusiasm. “I’m afraid I have no strength for even the slightest of magics right now. Perhaps another time? I am hoping my magical skills will be useful in the days to come, I am to aid the healers starting tomorrow.” Vallas seemed disappointed at the delay in seeing shapeshifting done, but the other elves seemed reassured. Apparently healing was a respectable use for one’s magic, Hiraeth learned as they joined the group chatter. When the last of the day’s light was gone from the sky they all retired to their bunks. Hiraeth was given the top bunk of a pair, with Vallas occupying the mattress below.

A poke of the bed revealed the source of the straw smell. It appeared that the mattresses were made by stuffing straw into cloth. A slightly rough, stabby bed, but warmer and softer than the floor for certain. A hook was attached to the post of the bunks from which Hiraeth hung their pack and scabbard. They hesitated, wondering if they should undress a little before bed. The others seemed to either sleep in their full clothes or take off the outermost layer. Hiraeth decided they would be more comfortable without their belts, overtunic, pauldrons and vambraces. They enjoyed the effect of wearing their fluffy fur pauldrons. They made their shoulders look bigger and kept their arms warm, but they were a bit uncomfortable to lay in. The rest of their accoutrements were made of stiff leather. Not excellent pajama material.

Hiraeth settled into their bed, the sound of soft snores filling the air as the others all succumbed to sleep. Despite the sharp bits of straw poking them in multiple places they felt the strain of the day draw them into sleep’s embrace.


	9. Earning Your Keep

Hiraeth spent the night much more comfortably away from the negative atmosphere of the cells. They spent their time practicing their telekinesis, stacking stones atop one another to test their control, lifting as many as they could at a time to work on splitting their attention and lifting heavier weights. They wondered if what they were doing was an application of force magic? The games never really showed much practical use of magic, just combat stuff.

Hiraeth was awoken at dawn by the sound of their roommates preparing for the day. They re-dressed theirself and followed Vallas outside. Apparently waking up at ass o’clock was a common thing here as food was already being handed out to a line of people outside the Chantry. Hiraeth yawned and attempted to bring their mind up to full working speed. They hated mornings. They always felt slow and sluggish for a few hours after being awoken.

The food being doled out appeared to be some sort of porridge. Hiraeth wrinkled their nose. Porridge was bland, lumpy, and boring. Their rumbling stomach reminded them that they had little alternative, however and they resolved to eat it while it was at least still hot.

“You look like someone just handed you Nug shit instead of breakfast.” remarked Vallas good naturedly from Hiraeth’s side.

“Porridge is not my favourite food.” Said Hiraeth, only just above a growl. “But it’s better than nothing. I am also not known for my sunny demeanor in the mornings.” They blinked blearily in Vallas’ direction. The other elf seemed disgustingly chipper for someone up so painfully early. “What are your plans for the day?” They asked, curious as to what a potential Herald did if they weren’t the Herald.

“I am working in the smithy” Vallas replied. “I have a good eye, a steady hand, and I enjoy the work, so Harritt’s taken me on.” He seemed proud of his professed skill, and his June Vallaslin was an obvious sign of his love of making things.

They chatted a little over their breakfast. Hiraeth eventually managed to finish their food and stood. “I suppose I’ll see you later. Wish me luck with the healers!” They took their bowl and spoon to where things were being gathered to be washed and then set off for Adan’s hut.

When Hiraeth entered the apothecary’s hut they were almost overwhelmed by the smells. Herbs were everywhere, dried, crushed, mixed. At the far end of the room a familiar bald head was poring over a table, paying no attention to the intrusion.

“Excuse me.” Hiraeth said. “Are you Adan?”

The man turned away from the table, a frown creasing his brow. “Yes, I am. Are you here to help? Seeker Pentaghast said someone might be coming over today.”

“I am.” Said Hiraeth. “I know some minor healing magic, and the basics of the preparation of herb poultices and potions.”

Adan seemed to perk up greatly at the mention of healing magic. “I’ll show you to the tents sheltering the wounded. If you can close wounds and heal bones it would greatly reduce the strain on our currently meager resources.”

Adan strode to the door and beckoned Hiraeth to follow him. He didn’t seem interested much in idle chatter, leading the short route to a collection of tents and fires. The smell as they neared slowly changed from one of woodsmoke to a cloying, musty scent that filled the nose. It stank of old blood and sick.

Hiraeth was thankful for their strong stomach as they took their leave of Adan, walking towards the individual Adan pointed out as the lead healer.

The woman appeared to be a chantry sister, her long sleeves rolled up and a bloodstained apron covering her robes. She turned at Hiraeth’s approach, frowning slightly as she took note of their lack of injury.

Hiraeth forestalled any questions by introducing theirself. “I am Hiraeth. Adan has sent me to aid you with my healing spells.”

The woman nodded. “In that case you should set up in the end tent and we will bring to you those that will benefit most for magical aid.”

Hiraeth nodded their assent and entered the tent the sister had indicated, wrinkling their nose at the state of the inside. The tent was small, and two cots lay along one wall, leaving just enough room for a person to attend them on the other side. The cots were bloodstained also and stank strongly of blood. Hiraeth quickly pinned back the door flaps of the tent to allow the smell an exit and made to clean the beds.

The construction of the cots was simple, cloth stretched over the bedframe and if the patient were lucky, a pillow and blanket. The cloth forming the ‘mattress’ of the bed was filthy, so Hiraeth removed them and replaced them with the blankets, finishing attaching them as a sister led in their first patient.

Hiraeth spent their morning healing cuts and closing wounds, the patients clearly grateful as their ailments vanished before their eyes. After many hours and many patients a servant brought a large pot of stew down to the healing camp. The stew was dished out and Hiraeth was afforded a short break to eat it. During their meal they sat with the head Healer who introduced herself as Sister Catherine. As they ate Hiraeth made sure to mention some well-known ‘Dalish’ Healing practices such as the importance of hygiene in medicine, especially that of bandages and the hands of the healers. They recommended Sister Catherine Boil all bandages before use to ensure proper cleanliness, and cleaning the cots between uses. Catherine seemed doubtful that these measures would help but seemed to consider it at least when Hiraeth mentioned it would greatly reduce the amount of infections.

Hiraeth’s afternoon went similarly to their morning. A procession of patients hobbled into, and walked out of their tent, including a Dwarf that Hiraeth could have sworn looked like their Cadash Warrior. She had come in with a nasty gash on her face that was now a thin scar, bisecting an eyebrow and lining her jaw. She bore it well, saying that it was better she line her face than see the people she had been protecting die.

As the sun fell behind the mountain peaks and the first stars became visible in the sky Catherine came to Hiraeth’s tent. She seemed very grateful for Hiraeth’s help, The tents had been almost full to bursting and Hiraeth’s work had made some much needed room.

 

Hiraeth returned to the area breakfast had been served and found it busy with people also in search of their evening meal. They claimed their meal and caught sight of Vallas, settling in next to him to eat. He was in a state of high excitement, explaining to anyone who would listen  that he had been assisting with the maintenance of ‘A crossbow of beautiful design’ that he claimed was “The most efficient and smooth piece of work’ he had ever seen. By the time Hiraeth arrived it seemed that most people around him had heard their fill of his enthusiasm and left Hiraeth to be his next victim. At Hiraeth’s apparent interest he began a lecture about things like ‘torque’ and ‘retention springs’. When questioned about the owner of the crossbow, he managed to recall that the individual talked a lot and had a deep voice. Amused by their friends priorities Hiraeth smiled, listening to Valen’s detailed technical appraisal of what could only be Bianca.

 

The rest of the night passed much as the one before, an evening spent talking with the other elves, a night spent practicing lifting and throwing rocks. To Hiraeth’s pride, they were able to make knock sizeable chunks out of the rocks they used for target practice. They would have to keep a pouch of stones with them to use as ammunition if they went anywhere dangerous.

Just before lunch a runner came to Hiraeth’s tent. Apparently they were required at the chantry post haste. Sister Catherine seemed disappointed to see them go, but most of the patients were those with ailments beyond Hiraeth’s abilities anyway.

 

At the chantry they found Leliana and Cassandra waiting for them.

“She is beginning to wake.” Said Leliana. There was no need to state who she was talking about, Their identity obvious by the impatience in Cassandra’s expression and Leliana’s slight frown.

“What do you need me to do?” Hiraeth asked.

“Solas has been monitoring the mark, but has gone into the valley once more to attempt to deal with a rift.” Said Leliana.

“In his absence you are the best suited to monitor the wellbeing of the prisoner.” Cassandra added. “we only need you to heal the damage of the mark if you can, and send someone for us when she awakes fully. After that I recommend you keep your distance. We do not know yet whether or not she is a potential ally or foe, and she may be aggressive upon waking.”

Hiraeth nodded their understanding and made their way down the stairs and corridor to the familiar gloom of the cells. The guards had apparently been made aware of their role as they did not react to their approach. Thus Hiraeth got their first good look at The Mark.


	10. Marked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald awakens!

Hiraeth crouched at the side of the prisoner. She seemed to be more aware than when last Hiraeth had seen her, moving in discomfort and seemingly muttering to herself, words indistinct. Hiraeth’s attention was drawn to the Mark on her left hand. It flared intermittently, glowing brightly and causing the Qunari to flinch and cry out.

Hiraeth inspected the hand around the mark. The skin around it was warm and a darker grey than her healthy, slate coloured skin. Hiraeth applied a mild healing spell, soothing the irritated flesh. It would help make her more comfortable for now, but as soon as the mark flared again they had to reapply it. After suffering a few more flares of the mark the Qunari started to show signs of waking, opening bleary eyes and attempting to sit up. Hiraeth nodded to one of the guards, sending her to fetch Cassandra and Leliana. The prisoner seemed groggy and not entirely with it, she tried to get to her feet but fell down. Hiraeth helped her into a kneeling position that she seemed to find more comfortable. Eyeing the large horns that curved back from her head Hiraeth supposed lying down flat wasn’t the most comfortable position for their prisoner.

One of the guards stepped forward with large Manacles. Hiraeth helped him put them onto the prisoner who did not react, seemingly still dazed and half-conscious.

With the prisoner now awake Hiraeth remembered their instruction to keep a safe distance and moved away behind the ring of guards, who now had their swords drawn and pointed at the prisoner.

 

Just as the prisoner seemed to awaken fully footsteps could be heard from outside the door. The prisoner looked at their marked hand, confused. She cried out as it flared, just before the door swung open, hitting the wall with a bang. Cassandra entered and immediately approached the prisoner, Leliana prowling by the door.

“tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now.” Cassandra demanded, circling Adaar. “The conclave was destroyed, everyone who attended is dead. Except for you.”

The woman seemed momentarily taken aback by this statement, but recovered quickly. “You think I did it.” She stated. Her voice was rough, but not like in the game. her voice had the rasp of one long unused, once she had recovered her voice might fall somewhere in between the two voice options players were offered. Hiraeth supposed the rasp was probably due to the fact that she had been unconscious for three days.

The soldiers sheathed their weapons as Cassandra approached, Leliana at her back.

“Explain This.” Cassandra responded, holding up the Qunari’s marked hand.

Hiraeth watched as the conversation continued, startlingly similar to the cutscene in the game.

The Qunari seemed to be confused (understandably), but responded seemingly honestly to Leliana’s follow up questions.

After Cassandra sent Leliana onward and bound the Qunari’s hands with rope she gestured for Hiraeth to follow as she led the prisoner out of the chantry. Hiraeth followed quietly, unsure if they were to be taken along to see the breach. They were probably skilled enough now to be able to defend theirself on the journey. Hopefully.

The Qunari flinched slightly as she exited the Chantry, shading her eyes from the bright light outside. Hiraeth observed her expression as Cassandra explained what they knew of the Breach.

As Cassandra finished the Mark flared again, driving Adaar to her knees. Cassandra explained what they knew of the mark (painfully little) and the prisoner responded determinedly that they would help. “Whatever it takes.” She said. And somehow, Hiraeth didn’t doubt that she meant it.

Cassandra led them through the camp, still expositioning to distract from the dirty looks being directed at their prisoner. Cassandra finished her monologue on the bridge outside Haven, freeing the Qunari’s hands.

“Where are you taking me?” She asked, rubbing some feeling back into her wrists.

“Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the breach.” Cassandra replied. “If our Dalish friend’s vision of the future is to be believed, it will seal it.”

The prisoner turned to Hiraeth for the first time.

“Vision of the future?” She asked.

“Another gift from the Breach.” Hiraeth replied, gesturing to their eyes. “My other visions have come true, and I strongly believe that this will work.”

They hesitated, a thought occurring to them. “We haven’t asked your name yet, have we? You know I am Hiraeth and this is Cassandra, Cassandra Pentaghast. Who are you?”

The woman raised an eyebrow at such a confident assertion of success. “I am Turiha Adaar of the Valo-Kas Mercenary group.”

“A pleasure to meet you.” Hiraeth replied with a smile.

Turiha squinted, as if searching for sign of mockery. “Hm.” She said, setting off across the bridge. Hiraeth shrugged at Cassandra as they both set off after her.

Halfway up the path on the other side the Mark flared again. Turiha cried out and fell as the blazing mark burned in her hand.

“The pulses are coming faster now.” Said Cassandra, helping her back to her feet.

“How did I survive the blast?” Turiha asked.

Hiraeth gestured for Turiha to hold out her hand as Cassandra described her exit from the breach.

Hiraeth soothed Turiha’s hand once more with their magic, gaining an appreciative glance from the Qunari before she led them off again down the path, seemingly unwilling to hang around.

Hiraeth recalled the fate of the bridge on the other side of the gate a moment too late as a blast of fade debris smashed into it. Hiraeth and the others fell the few feet to the ice below, missing being crushed by the bridge debris.

They had hardly gotten to their feet, however, when another green object smashed into the ice nearby, causing a great cracking noise. The noise didn’t come from the ice, however.

A demon rose from the Ice and sung around to face the party.

“Stay behind me!” ordered Cassandra, charging forward and swinging her blade at the creature.

Between Cassandra and the others a second patch of ice turned an ominous black and began to bubble, signaling the eminent arrival of another Demon.”

“Do you have any weapons?” Turiha demanded, grabbing Hiraeth by the arm.

“On my back.” Hiraeth replied, glad that they had kept their belongings on them at all times. They had not trusted the hut to be a safe place to leave their things, especially as Elves were viewed as second class citizens. They quickly unsheathed their long knives and handed them over.

“Perfect.” Turiha grinned, twirling the blades.

The moment the demon burst forth from the ice Turiha was upon it, leaping forward with startling speed and stabbing with both daggers at once.

Both of the Demons were too close to their allies for Hiraeth to risk using fire against them. They quickly glanced around, looking for ammunition. They spotted a good, fist sized rock and grabbed it with their magic, lifting it to float by their side. They sent it flying into the demon with a powerful thrust, striking it in the head. It dropped its guard enough that Turiha was able to stab it somewhere vital, sending their foe to the ground, dead. They both approached Cassandra as she finished off her opponent.

“Drop your weapon. Now.” She demanded, turning on Turiha.

Turiha hesitated and Hiraeth chimed in “She is really more likely to use them on the demons, right?”

Turiha nodded. “I did agree to come willingly after all.” She added.

Cassandra scowled, but acquiesced. “That is true.” She said. “I cannot expect you to be defenseless.”

The tension diffused, the party resumed their march toward the breach. Hiraeth kept an eye out on the way for good rocks to keep with them. Sure, they could use rocks just lying around a battle field, but should they need to fight somewhere with no loose stones they doubted they yet had the strength to take chunks out of a solid surface.

They encountered a few more roving groups of demons on their meandering path, the debris raining from the breach having rendered the original path unnavigable in places.

Eventually however, they reached some steps. The sound of fighting could be heard at the top and the party hurried up the steps. Hiraeth silently marveled at the ease with which they could now move. Hiraeth was definitely in better shape than they had been back home.

From the top of the steps they were afforded the view of a group of inquisition soldiers, as well as Solas and a sturdy, crossbow wielding figure that must be Varric, fending of waves of Demons as they exited the rift nearby. Cassandra and Turiha wasted no time standing on the ledge and both dropped down and joined the fray. Hiraeth decided to reduce the likelihood of their being attacked by staying upon the ledge and hurling rocks from a distance. They quickly fired off a volley of rocks that had been laying on and under the ledge with sharp thrusts of their fists, magic flaring. They reveled in the sensation of using their magic like this. Magic in the fade felt like directing a stream as it flowed around you. Here, the magic flowed _through_ you. It was intoxicating.

Eventually the Demon numbers were thinned enough that the rift could be approached. Hiraeth then watched the scene unfold as it had in their vision, and the cutscene from the game. They introduced theirself to Varric after the conversation was done, Cassandra turning away with her trademark disgusted noise.

“I am Hiraeth. This Bianca must be the crossbow that has Valen so excited.” They remarked.

“No mention of me?” Varric asked, amused.

“He said you talked a lot, but to be honest I don’t think he was listening.” Hiraeth chuckled as the group moved on.

“If only the rest of us found his words so easy to ignore.” Remarked a smirking Solas as he fell into step on Hiraeth’s other side.

“You’d miss me if I was gone, Chuckles.” Varric said confidently as they made their way to their next fight.


	11. Once More Unto the Breach

The rest of their journey through the valley was even busier than the first part, their increasing proximity to the breach matched by the increasing numbers of demons they encountered. Cassandra and Turiha both getting in close combat, Varric and Solas taking a ranged stance, and Hiraeth doing their best to harry their opponents with thrown rocks and healing their allies as they went.

In a break in the combat Solas brought up their strange fighting style. “Your method of engaging our foes is … original.” He remarked.

“I have found it a good alternative to relying on a staff.” Hiraeth replied. “When you’re hiding from mage-hunters, carrying around a large stick often associated with magic isn’t the most sensible course of action.”

“A good point.” Solas nodded accommodatingly.

As they finally approached the forward camp the familiar (to some of them) sounds of Chancellor Roderick’s protestations became audible. Leliana’s responses insufficient to sway him and her temper fraying, she seemed relieved to see the party approaching.

The following conversation followed the same route it did in the game, Cassandra eventually turning to ask Turiha her opinion on what route they should next take. Turiha decided on the rout through the mountains and so the party set off upward. The view of the valley was actually rather good from here Hiraeth mused from the top. The route they had taken thus far was visible, as was the destruction, the road smashed in places, small rifts visible across the valley. Hiraeth turned as the rest of the party continued their journey in the mountain tunnels.

When they reached the other end of the tunnel, after fighting their way through a small compliment of demons, they found the bodies of a few inquisition soldiers. Hiraeth hurried forward to see if any were still alive, but the demons had torn through them mercilessly.

“That cannot be all of them.” Cassandra said.

“So the others may be up ahead somewhere?” Varric asked.

“Our priority must be the breach. Until we seal it, no-one is safe.” Solas warned.

“I’m leaving that to our Qunari friend, here.” Varric replied.

“We can still help them on our way past, though.” Hiraeth added. “If I were stuck up here, I’d hope someone would help if they could.”

There was no reply to that and the group continued at a steady pace down the slope of the mountainside. Then, just ahead, they caught glimpse of yet another rift, and a group of Inquisition soldiers attempting to keep the demons coming from it at bay.

Without a word the party sprang into action, quickly dealing with the Demons and Turiha raising the mark to the rift, jumping slightly as they made contact.

Hiraeth then approached the soldiers, checking them over for injuries and healing them. Most of the soldiers were unharmed, but they had been protecting a few with moderately serious injuries. The lieutenant declared the group’s gratitude for their assistance and Cassandra directed them to the herald.

“It was worth saving you, if we could.” Turiha told them.

After the soldiers moved on, Hiraeth spoke to Cassandra.

“That was the scene from my vision.” They told her.

“All of your visions have been coming true?” asked Cassandra. “The maker has blessed us indeed with your gift. Please, inform us of any more.” She then turned and directed the party down the slope.

Up close, the destruction of the temple could be seen in all its devastation. The smell of burning flesh and melting stone hung in the air, inspiring one to not breathe too deeply. Burnt corpses covered the floor, frozen in various poses that screamed of fear and agony.

Leliana caught up with them as they entered what remained of the temple. Her people took up positions around the temple, keeping eyes out everywhere for signs of danger.

As the group moved through the rubble, trying to find a way to get near the rift that hung below the breach, a deep and sinister voice echoed from it.

“Now is the hour of our victory.” It intoned. “Bring forth the sacrifice.”

Well. That was a lot creepier in person. The Red Lyrium, when they approached it was appropriately nightmarish. Alongside the creepy glow, it felt like it was reaching out, trying to worm its way beneath Hiraeth’s skin. Touching their mind and murmuring a faint tune just beyond their hearing.

Varric’s worries about its presence put aside for the time being, the group descended to the centre of what used to be the temple. Rocks and broken statuary floated in the air above them, spinning slowly.

The rift crackled and burst, leaking an image as well as sound, echoing the events that had occurred before the breach was opened. The group saw a tall, indistinct figure threatening the Divine, the Divine calling out for help. They saw Turiha burst in, confused. Saw the figure then threaten her too, before the brief glimpse into the past ended. Cassandra demanded an explanation from Turiha, but once again received the response that Turiha had lost all memories of these events.

Approaching the rift, Solas studied it before turning back and announcing that the rift must be opened fully before it could be sealed properly. He warned that such action would draw the notice of anything still dwelling on the other side, and the two groups prepared for a Demon incursion.

Turiha approached the rift, Mark raised. The rift seemed to pull at the mark before it sprang into a wide arcing shape, it was open. Immediately a large figure emerged, Taller than three men and broad, it had large horns that stretched it’s height further and unnatural protrusions on its arms and legs. It stretched and roared before turning to face the closest group of soldiers, its many eyes small and dark, shining with a menacing intelligence.

As soon as it corporealised the archers positioned around the rift let fly their arrows. Many of them splintered off its thick skin but a few seemed to sink in, drawing an angry cry. The pride demon strode forward and prepared itself to attack. The first ball of electricity it launched knocked men flying from the impact. A few struggled to rise, but all seemed eager to rejoin the fray. Quickly, Cassandra called orders, organizing the groups strongest fighters to surround and hamper the beast, the archers to target its eyes, and for Turiha and the few other faster moving rogues present to dart in and out and try to bring the beast down.

Hiraeth found theirself momentarily frozen, unable to think how they might best meet this foe. As they wracked their brain, wasting precious seconds an idea presented itself. Seized by courage, and a little excitement, Hiraeth prepared their spell. They squared up to the demon and began to run towards it. Halfway there, mid-stride they activated their spell and _shifted_ taking on the form of a bear.

Their gait changed completely, now a rocking back and forth motion as they charged with increased momentum on four clawed paws. The demon saw the sudden movement of their charge and began to turn to face them, too slow. Hiraeth barreled into the legs of the demon, biting fiercely and grasping with strong claws. Their momentum and the demon’s lack of balance combined to topple it to the floor. No sooner had the crashing noise of its fall stopped ringing in the ears of those around it then it was set upon immediately by the surrounding soldiers. Blades stabbed and slashed, taking advantage of their foes vulnerability.

From their position holding the legs, Hiraeth saw Turiha take a running leap onto the demons chest. She wobbled for a moment as it thrashed, trying to free itself and return to its feet, but regained her footing and struck. Both blades sank into the throat of the creature, it’s roar of pain garbled and gurgling. Quickly Turiha leapt free of the demon’s reach, but the demon quickly lost strength to react. Within moments its movement ceased and the demon lay dead.

During the intense scuffle with the pride demon, a few wraiths had emerged from the rift, but they were quickly taken down by the remaining strength of the force assembled.

Turiha sheathed her blades and approached the rift, thrusting forward her hand. The energy of the mark surged forward, snapping through the air and colliding with the rift. For a few disheartening moments it seemed like nothing would happen. Then, with a blinding flash and echoing **THOOM** the rift closed, a shockwave blasting out, knocking everyone in the vicinity to the floor. The glowing chain of energy connecting the rift to the breach unraveled upwards, reaching the Breach which reacted with a second shockwave and backlash of energy, this time spreading into miles of sky overhead.

As everyone climbed back to their feet Hiraeth shifted back to their regular form, their mouth tasting of demon yuck. They took a quick moment to rinse out their mouth using water from their skin before joining the crowd around the prone form of Turiha.

Solas kneeled by her head, obviously checking for injuries.

“She will be fine.” He announced after a few tense moments. “The strain of using the mark on such a challenging task has drained her and she will need time to recover, but with rest she will suffer no lasting harm.”

Everyone seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at that announcement, and the assembled were quickly organized. The injured were tended to and a stretcher assembled to carry Turiha back with. Solas requested to remain for a while and study the breach. Wishing to ascertain if it was improved by the closing of the rift.

The journey back to Haven was difficult due to the lack of road and the prevalent ice, but no more demons or fade debris rained from the sky, greatly easing their return passage through the valley.

Upon their return Turiha was placed in a small house near to the chantry to recover and left under guard as the new was spread that the party had successfully closed rifts. Duty performed, Hiraeth was free to rejoin their friends for dinner but found they had barely any energy for conversation. After yawning their way through the meal they said their goodnights and crawled into their straw bed, falling quickly asleep.


	12. Night Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiraeth heals and confuses various members of the soon-to-be inquisition.

Hiraeth’s dreams were odd that night. It might have been due to their exhaustion, or the closing of the unstable rift, but they found theirself unable to focus and spent the night wandering. There were very few spirits or demons around, so they were not disturbed, but they awoke feeling thwarted.

Breakfast was a lively affair, the crowds of hungry people chatting and gossiping about the events of yesterday. Some said that they had heard Andraste herself sent Turiha in their hour of need. Others said that the breach had been made safe by Seeker Pentaghast and that they had all been saved. Some said that Turiha was a Qunari spy sent to take advantage of this moment of weakness and was surely waiting to strike. Hiraeth tried to locate that speaker, but they were lost in the crowd. Turiha silently made plans to spend the night in Turiha’s presence, perhaps as a bear?

After eating they returned to the medical area to find it in pandemonium. The assault on the breach the day before had required the soldiers to charge the temple as a distraction, resulting in a great many injuries. Hiraeth strode into action, rolling up their sleeves and helping out where they could. Healing wounds and fetching bandages, they were kept busy ‘til the sun began to set, with only a few snatched bites of bread to keep them going.

As the sun sank behind the mountains other, fresher healers arrived, apparently the night shift. Hiraeth was shooed away to find some food and rest which they did, gratefully. Over their food they told Valen their worries about someone possibly wanting to harm Turiha. He seemed reluctant at first, but agreed that Hiraeth should do something.

After finishing their food, Hiraeth slunk away from the crowd, ducking around the corner of a building into a quiet alley. Quickly looking around to be sure they weren’t being watched, they turned into an owl and took to the sky.

If they hadn’t been on such an important mission Hiraeth would have allowed theirself to fully enjoy the sensations of flight, the wind under their wings, the ground falling away beneath them as they soared. Their eyesight was greatly enhanced in this form, but having to turn their head instead of moving their eyes felt strange.

Hiraeth quickly located Turiha’s abode and circled silently, looking for a way in. the chimney had smoke coming from it and so was a definite no-go. Their sharp eyes spotted a window, slightly ajar. Perhaps someone had forgotten to latch it? They inspected the area outside the window. It was grassy and covered with scraggly winter bushes, nobody appeared to be looking in that direction so Hiraeth drifted down on their silent owl wings and landed.

Returning to their elven form they crouched, getting their bearings for a moment. They appeared to remain unobserved, so they reached up and swung the window open. Rising slightly they peered over the sill, searching the room for occupants. Apparently whoever had left the window ajar had left for the day, Turiha the room’s sole occupant, unconscious on a cot on the far side of the room. Thanking their slim build, Hiraeth climbed up and through the window, landing on a matching cot. They turned and closed the window properly, latching it.

Hiraeth gave the room a quick search, looking for potential access an intruder might use, before concluding that the building was as secure as its simple construction could make it.

Finding a clear space in the middle of the floor, Hiraeth shifted into the bear form they had used to fight the demon and lay down, facing the door and fell into a light sleep, ready to leap up should the door move even an inch.

 

They were awoken the next day by the door suddenly slamming closed. Frantic whispering could be heard on the other side followed by:

“What do you mean there’s a Bear?!”

Hiraeth opened their eyes and focused on the door, staying very still. Some more whispering ensued followed by an exasperated “Fine, then. If it will ease your worries I shall enter first.”

The door then opened and a man who appeared to be an inquisition guard looked in. Hiraeth blinked at him. He blinked back, his face losing all colour. The guard withdrew his head and hurriedly closed the door once again. A lot more whispering occurred, followed by some hurriedly retreating footsteps.

Hiraeth began to wonder if maybe they should have mentioned to someone that they would be watching over the inquisitor. It their hurry last night they hadn’t stopped to think how someone with legitimate reason to enter would react to a bear in the Herald’s room. The best thing to do, they decided, was to wait and see who the people they had scared the lives out of brought back, and explain to them.

Hiraeth didn’t have long to wait. After a few minutes the feet they had heard retreating returned, this time all but drowned out by the sound of heavier steps, complete with the rattle of armour.

Whoever had been brought didn’t seem to feel the need to waste time talking at the door and briskly flung the door open. Hiraeth sat up, the movement bringing them to eye level with Commander Cullen, his hand on his sword and surprise on his face.

Hiraeth took advantage of his momentary bewilderment and transformed back into their regular, elven form. Unsure as  to the correct manner in which to proceed they decided to act as if nothing unusual had occurred and introduce theirself.

“Hello!” They said brightly, extending a hand. “I’m Hiraeth. I was hoping to check on Ms. Adaar, and ensure she was okay after yesterday.” They fixed a bright, slightly awkward smile on their face as Cullen blinked bemusedly. The fact he hadn’t drawn his sword was promising, though his tight grip on the handle indicated he hadn’t yet ruled it out.

“I am Commander Cullen.” He responded briskly. “Would you be the same Hiraeth that accompanied the Seeker to the breach yesterday?” He asked, a slight frown crinkling his brow. “I had heard that a Dalish elf had turned into a bear during the fighting at the rift..” He trailed off, apparently as wrong footed as Hiraeth for the moment.

“Yes, that was me.” Hiraeth dropped their extended hand, smile settled into something a little more natural. “I saw Turiha collapse and was concerned. I also overheard some nasty comments concerning her intentions and thought a bear might dissuade anyone wishing to act on their ill feeling.

“And you don’t believe the men I have stationed to guard her are sufficient?” Cullen folded his arms across his chest, brow raised.

“I got in.” Hiraeth pointed out.

Cullen deflated a little. “How _did_ you get in?” He asked exasperatedly.

“The window was open.” Hiraeth gestured. “I just flew over and climbed in.”

“Flew?!” Cullen demanded, dropping his defensive posture.

“My shapeshifting abilities are limited only to creatures I have sufficiently studied.” Hiraeth explained, ticking off on their fingers as they listed. “Those include Bears, Owls, Halla, Foxes, Wolves and Mice.”

“Indeed.” Cullen replied, distractedly. After a moment an idea seemed to occur to him. “As you are so invested in the safety of Ms. Adaar, and possess unique abilities useful for her protection, perhaps you would be an additional guard? Your ingenuity would be put to good use, and it would ease many minds to know that someone with healing abilities is nearby.”

“How nearby were you thinking?” Hiraeth inquired.

“Staying in the same room seems to be effective.” Cullen pointed out dryly. “As long as we inform the servants beforehand, your shapeshifting abilities will also be useful in deterring unwanted visitors. Have you other duties that would interfere with this task?”

“I have been working in the healer’s tents the last few days, but I’m not sure how much longer my few spells will be useful. What I know is mostly small scale, for healing minor injuries sustained while hunting. Many of the injuries they are treating now are beyond my knowledge and experience.” Hiraeth frowned.

Cullen nodded in understanding. “Fortunately, the closing of the rifts has drawn many survivors of the blast to us, including mages specialized in such arts. The healers will be sufficiently supported if you take up new duties, I am sure.”

“Very well.” Said Hiraeth re-extending their hand. “I am at your disposal Commander.”


	13. Some Illustrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not actually a proper chapter, but I have some Images I wanted to share, to give you an idea of what everyone looks like!

Turiha Adaar! By crystalgraziano.tumblr.com (as far as I can tell - it has been very hard to track down any kind of source...)

Vallas Lavellan! (pls imagine him with Vallaslin and more dragon age-ey ears.) made using Dolldivine's LOTR character creator.

Mathilda Trevelyan. also made using Dolldivine's LOTR character creator.

Milah Cadash! the options for making armoured lady dwarves are very disappointing so please imagine this Dolldivine viking maker character much shorter!

and as for Hiraeth....

The hair isn't exactly how I imagine it, and there is no way to put the tattoos on, maybe I should save up and comission some art? but here we are! tadaa!

next chapter of the actual story is currently in progress. :)


	14. Guard Duty

After discussing the details of Hiraeth’s new assignment, Cullen left, waving in a servant, presumably the one Hiraeth’s presence had interrupted the work of.

“Hello.” Hiraeth waved awkwardly. “I’m Hiraeth. Sorry if I scared you earlier, I had intended to deter unwanted visitors.”

The elf nodded in response, mumbling something that may have been a reassurance before hurrying into the room and attending their duties, setting the fire and attending to Turiha.

At some point the Qunari had been changed out of the travel-worn clothes she had been wearing and into a more comfortable looking simple tunic and trousers. The mark on her hand pulsed softly, like a heartbeat. A great improvement from the harsh Flaring of its pre-rift closing state, in Hiraeth’s opinion.

As the Elven servant left, Hiraeth moved closer to inspect Turiha’s hand. The flesh was slightly inflamed once again, but once Hiraeth soothed it with a spell it appeared much more comfortable. The mark was almost like a part of her body, rather than an intrusion upon it.

Just as Hiraeth’s stomach began to growl, the servant reappeared with a tray. Upon the tray was a bowl of light broth, a bowl of porridge and some bread. He hurried in, handing the tray to Hiraeth with a carefully averted gaze and made to leave again.

“Wait!” Hiraeth called out. “Thank you for the food, may I ask your name?”

The elf looked around nervously, as if hoping for a way out. “Jarel.” He said quickly.

“Relax, Jarel.” Hiraeth said, in a tone they hoped was soothing. “I’m not going to hurt you.” They tried for a reassuring smile.

Jarel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but returned a weak smile before hurrying out the door once again, closing it carefully behind him.

Placing Turiha’s broth near the fire to keep warm, Hiraeth quickly forced down their serving of  bland porridge. The bread was a much nicer treat, warm and fresh. Hiraeth paused as they encountered a piece of grit in their food and spat it out for inspection. Finishing their bread, they supposed actually having food to give to the floods of survivors was probably more of a priority than making it perfect. They didn’t know much about the process of milling grain into flour, but it seemed that the sieving process here in Thedas could do with improvement.

Feeling fuller Hiraeth turned back to Turiha and her broth. Luckily Hiraeth had heard of the kind of thing one does in this situation and began carefully dabbing Turiha’s lips with the liquid, pausing to allow her to instinctively lick them.

Some time later, the broth had nearly cooled to room temperature, but most of it had passed Turiha’s lips and Hiraeth was sure starvation was not imminent at least. Setting both of their breakfast bowls aside, Hiraeth stood, stretching. A memory floated to the surface of their mind with the action, some yoga-like stretching exercises the Dalish hunters performed to stay limber. Hiraeth recalled doing likewise, even in their isolation. There didn’t seem to be anything they needed to do right now, and were honestly feeling a little bored, so they cleared a space in the middle of the room and began with some gentle poses.

They were interrupted some time later by Adan entering the room. He grunted at Hiraeth, ignoring the fact that they were balanced on one leg, the other stretched precariously behind them, almost touching their shoulder and moved over to Turiha. He spent nearly an hour there, checking her over with a professional care.

He addressed Hiraeth on his way out:

“Keep feeding her that broth and her condition should improve. Let me know if anything changes.”

Before Hiraeth could reply in the affirmative the door was closed again and he was gone. Busy man, Hiraeth supposed.

 

The next two days continued in much a similar manner. Jarel remained skittish, performing his assigned duties and leaving quickly. Adan mostly ignored Hiraeth in his brusque manner, checking Turiha’s wellbeing and moving on to his other duties.

Hiraeth tried to remember what happened in the game while the Inquisitor was asleep for the second time and came up with a blank. It could be assumed that Cassandra was preparing to reinstate the Inquisition, and news of the breach spreading under Leliana’s direction. Josephine was probably here, or arriving soon, and Cullen organizing the Inquisitions future army. Mostly everyone seemed to be waiting for Turiha to wake up. Hiraeth shared their impatience for a moment, so many days of sleep was rather pushing it. Then again, Turiha was unlikely to have much opportunity for rest once the fate of the world was dropped on her shoulders. Hiraeth sighed. They had always considered theirself a fairly patient person, (where food was not involved) and they, too, should probably be taking advantage of this opportunity for rest. The gravity of the task laid before them would not get smaller by hurrying it along.

 

The monotony was finally broken on the third day of Hiraeth’s vigil. Just as Jarel entered to begin the morning routine, Turiha sat up. Hiraeth started, surprised by the sudden movement. Jarel dropped the crate of supplied he had been bringing in, apparently even less prepared for the sudden movement that Hiraeth.

“Where am I? What’s going on?” Turiha demanded, glancing between the two.

Jarel looked at Hiraeth, apparently preferring for them to answer.

“We’re back in Haven.” They said. “You managed to close the Rift and the Breach has stopped glowing. You have been unconscious for three days, but your mark appears to have stabilized.”

Turiha swung her legs over the side of the bed, raising her hand to inspect the Mark.

“That’s good.” She said, her shoulders losing some of their tension. “What happens next?” she asked, looking back to Hiraeth.

“Seeker Cassandra wanted to see you as soon as you Awoke, My Lady.” Jarel interrupted, looking nervously between them as if unsure about interrupting. “She should be in the chantry, ‘at once’ She said!” Jarel bowed to Turiha and fled the room, his nerves apparently unable to handle any more attention.

“Shall we then?” asked Turiha, standing and stretching.

“Perhaps once we get you some warmer clothes?” Hiraeth suggested, raising an eyebrow. They retrieved the pile of clothes that had been cleaned and returned, ready for Turiha to wear once she awoke. They handed the pile over and politely turned their back while Turiha changed, ignoring her amused snort.

“Am I fit to go now?” She asked once the rustling of clothes had stopped. Hiraeth turned around, noting the smile toying at Turiha’s lips.

“Perfect.” They declared. “Although you can’t blame me for wanting you to not die of exposure, after all the effort that’s been put in to keep you alive after you keep messing with the fade and passing out.” They teased, hoping they had read the situation correctly.

Turiha chuckled, her face less severe as she chuckled and gestured for Hiraeth to precede her. “Lead on then, My heroic protector!”

“Don’t worry,” They bantered back as they led the way towards the chantry, “I’ll rescue you from being lost, frozen, or maimed! Can’t do much about the crowds of curious onlookers though.”

As they made their way through the Village there was indeed a crowd gathering. People kept to a polite (or perhaps safe) distance, but stared openly as they passed. Some among the crowd did not appear pleased to see Turiha up and about, but most of the crowd seemed pleased that she had recovered and many whispers could be heard as they passed.

“That’s the Herald!”

“Look, The Herald of Andraste!”

“The Herald’s awake!”

They left the crowd behind as they entered the chantry however, and in the comparative silence it was easy to hear the echoing argument occurring on the other side of the door at the far end of the hall.


	15. The Inquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pretty much follows the in game script, but a challenge for my writing skills!

Hiraeth glanced at Turiha walking beside them, their steps echoing in the stony hall. Her face was carefully blank, showing no reaction to the muffled argument they were approaching. Turiha opened the door with a bang.

 

His argument cut short, Chancellor Roderick recovered from his surprise quickly. “Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial!” he ordered the Templars stationed either side of the entrance.

 

“Ignore that, and leave us.” Cassandra countered, taking a relaxed, yet authoritive stance.

The Templars saluted and left, Hiraeth sidestepping out of the way and inside the door as it closed behind them.

 

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.” Roderick snarled, turning on Cassandra with a scowl. She wasn’t the only one, Hiraeth noted, seeing Cassandra’s patience visibly deplete as her expression hardened.

 

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.” Cassandra growled back.

 

“So I’m still a suspect, even after what we just did?” Turiha demanded, stepping up to the table. her eyes flicked between Roderick and the two hands of the divine, as if trying to decide who was the biggest threat.

 

“You absolutely are.” Roderick replied, vicious determination in his tone.

 

“No, She is not.” Cassandra contradicted.

 

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave.” Leliana interjected. “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live.” her sharp eyes pierced Roderick who stepped back.

 

“I am a suspect?” His voice and eyebrows rose.

 

“You, and many others.”

 

“But not the prisoner.” The slight to his loyalty hardened Roderick’s voice.

 

“I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help.” Cassandra explained with the air of someone repeating herself.

 

“So her survival, that thing on her hand – all a coincidence?” Roderick gesticulated in frustration.

 

“Providence.” Cassandra replied. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”

 

Turiha stepped back from the table. “So you’ve changed your mind about me.” She said warily, expression unsure.

 

“I was wrong. Perhaps I still am. I will not, however, pretend you were not exactly what we needed when we needed it.” Cassandra replied.

 

“The Breach remains and your mark is our only hope of closing it.” Leliana pointed out.

 

“That is not for you to decide.” Roderick snapped.

 

Hiraeth sidled forward slightly as Cassandra turned and took a book from a shelf behind her and slammed it onto the table. This was their favourite part.

 

“You know what this is, Chancellor?” Cassandra turned on him with grim determination. “A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.” She advanced on him, poking him in the chest as he retreated from the onslaught.

“We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.” Hiraeth willfully restrained theirself from cheering as Roderick retreated, temporarily outmaneuvered.

 

Cassandra relaxed slightly as she turned back to the table, rubbing her forehead.

 

“This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.” Leliana explained. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

 

“But we have no choice.” Cassandra turned to Turiha. “We must act now. With you at our side.”

 

“And you.” Leliana added, addressing Hiraeth. “Your insight is valuable and your commitment commendable.”

 

Hiraeth glanced at Turiha to see how she would respond.

 

Her brow furrowed, Turiha spoke up. “What is 'the Inquisition of old,’ exactly?”

 

“It preceded the Chantry: People who banded together to restore order in a world gone mad.” Leliana replied, her voice carefully bland.

 

“After, they laid down their banner and formed the Templar Order.” Cassandra elaborated. “But the Templars have lost their way. We need those who can do what must be done united under a single banner once more.”

 

Turiha seemed to turn this over in her mind for a moment before responding. “If you’re truly trying to restore order…” She squared up to the two decisively.

 

“That is the plan.” Leliana replied, voice steady, but hope lightening her eyes.

 

“Help us fix this before it’s too late.” Cassandra approached Turiha, extending her hand.

The two shook on it, Cassandra smiling and Turiha setting her shoulders decisively.

 

Leliana looked back to Hiraeth.

 

“What?” They replied. “I was pretty much a certainty already, wasn’t I?”

 

“Joining the survivors of an explosion, and joining a rogue peacekeeping organization are slightly different things.” Leliana pointed out. “You would not be blamed for walking away.”

 

“Oh.” Hiraeth replied. “well It doesn’t really change much for me. I’m in.” They nodded decisively. As if they would even know what to do with theirself if they just walked away.

 

“Excellent.” Cassandra replied, extending her hand.

Tips on how to shake someone’s hand properly flitted through Hiraeth’s mind as they reached out in return. Firm grip, eye contact, don’t linger… They shook and Cassandra stepped back, apparently satisfied.

 

“Now comes the work of putting this all together I suppose.” Leliana sighed, turning back to the book.

 

Casandra caught Turiha and Hiraeth glancing at each other in consternation. “You may leave this part to us.” She reassured them, a hint of a smile hiding in the corner of her mouth. “You should speak to the smithyworkers about new equipment however, we can do better for our agents than whatever they find laying about.”

 

“Thank you.” Hiraeth replied. Turiha left with them and seemed happy to allow Hiraeth to lead the way to the smithy with the both of them preoccupied with their own thoughts. Hopefully the armourers would have something in green….


End file.
